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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28553508">The Color of the Stars</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iggy_Popsicle/pseuds/Iggy_Popsicle'>Iggy_Popsicle</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel, X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men Evolution, X-Men: The Animated Series</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Az can and will bodyslam scott, Blind Character, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, MC is female, Martial Arts, a lot of OCs - Freeform, azalea has a hundred brothers, mc is blind, tw: anxiety and sensory overload, tw: childhood trauma, tw: hearing voices, tw: trauma, will az shut up about scotts cologne? not because he always wears it, xmen bullshit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-11 00:20:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,443</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28553508</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iggy_Popsicle/pseuds/Iggy_Popsicle</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>As long as she could remember, Azalea Young has dealt with crippling migraines, sensory overload, voices in her head, and vision of things to come. Doctors have no answer. Resigned to coping with hell, Azalea retreats into martial arts, pushing herself to  be the best that she can be. Cerebro  picks up on a struggling mutant and Scott and The Professor pay a visit. Settling into a new life as an X-Man and a mutant poses all sorts of obstacles to Azalea. Changing powers, obsessive classmates, spies, and a complicated love life to name a few.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Scott Summers/Original Character(s), Scott Summers/Original Female Character(s), Scott Summers/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Seeking a Flower</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The sound of skin hitting the practice bag echoed through the mostly silent back room of the Young gym. Azalea was practicing in the dark, punching and kicking, sending the bag swinging from impact. Long ago, the back room was used to paper work and desks but they were moved to the front or to their home after Azalea took an interest in training. The hustle and bustle, the noise and smell of sweat that cling to the air of the main room was overwhelming to the girl. As a child, she couldn’t spend more than 10 minutes in the room before breaking into tears. As a result, the back room was turning into a haven for her. It was kept sterile and scentless, the lights always off, and music playing as softly as possible. </p><p><br/>
To Azalea, the world was three sizes too big; sometimes it was three sizes too small, depending on the day. That was the easy part, though. She could pick out how individuals smelled and what their laundry detergent was scented. That flux of her senses was the easiest to cope with, it was nothing like the echoey voice in her head that always had something to say. </p><p><br/>
Az paused, catching the bag before it hit her, out of instinct. </p><p><br/>
Rubbing at her hands, she moved away from the bag, taking a drink from her water bottle. She sat down, her chest heaving from the exertion. A break wouldn’t hurt anyone. She swigged from her bottle and laid down on the weight bench, her eyes closing. </p><p> </p><p>Liam sat behind the desk, scrolling through the pages of finances for the gym. He had a notebook in front of him and was rather consumed in the work. The rows and rows of numbers almost seemed to blend together. He highlighted the latest entry. Liam glanced from the paper books to the spreadsheet, changing a number that was wrong. He didn’t notice the people standing patiently on the other side of the desk until the older man cleared his throat. </p><p><br/>
“Excuse me. We’re looking for Azalea Young. Does she happen to be here?” The man in the wheelchair inquired. </p><p><br/>
Liam stopped dead. “Why?” His voice was sharp and he stood from the chair. With all the weirdness going around about his little sister, there were plenty of reasons for Liam to be wary of strangers asking for her. </p><p><br/>
“I’m afraid that is for her and her family to be concerned, young man.” Xavier folded his hands in his lap. He could sense her presence, even if he couldn’t get a read in her mind. </p><p><br/>
Scott sighed impatiently behind him, “Maybe she’s not here, Professor. Let’s go.” </p><p><br/>
“I’m her brother. What do you want?” Liam said. </p><p><br/>
“I have a school for Gifted Youngsters I think your sister would be well suited for. I am Professor Xavier. This is my student, Scott Summers. We would like to talk to her and your family about her joining our school.” The professor explained. He peered into the boy’s mind, reassuring his intentions were true. </p><p><br/>
“She’s… in the back room. I would be careful if I were you though.” Liam cautioned. His sister was sensitive and shy at times but she was equal parts, if not more dangerous. </p><p><br/>
“Don’t worry.” Scott nodded to the boy and walked through the gym, towards the backroom. There was a class of young children being taught by an older teenage boy. He watched for a moment, noting the techniques. Scott, by the nature of his work with the X-Men, had a rather vested interest in martial arts. He broke away and approached the door to the back room. He noticed the light was off and knocked, just be sure that there was someone behind the door. He pushed up open after a second. </p><p><br/>
“I thought you were supposed to be—" Azalea stopped dead, sitting up from her spot on the weight bench. “You’re not supposed to be back here." She grabbed the bo staff on the wall, holding it upright, but ready. Then, it hit her. The static in the air, cracking from the man in front of her. That and the blinding scent of cologne. The other man was silent and smelled of laundry detergent. The first one had to be about six foot, younger. The second was lower to the ground but something told her wheelchair. A blurry outline of their presence took shape in the door. She coughed, taking a few steps back. “Who are you?” She questions. </p><p><br/>
“We are here to help you, Azalea.” The older one said, “I am Professor Xavier. I understand that you have certain… gifts.” </p><p><br/>
“Not exactly what I would call it…” Azalea relaxed, the tension from her shoulders leaving as she heard Liam approach the door behind the group. She turned to set the bo staff down, tucking it back where it belongs. </p><p> </p><p>Scott took a moment to look around the room. It was dark, but the light from the window showed enough. A shelf wrapped near the ceiling full of trophies and dripping in medals. Work out equipment, training dummies, and mats littered the room. There was a half wall with a small radio and a gym bag. He looked back to the girl that was speaking. Her hands were wrapped and her skin looked sticky with sweat. Her hair was falling from its place, tied up. Her eyes caught his attention. Though he couldn't pick out her eye color, he could tell that they didn't move. She turned her head to face them, but her eyes were completely stationary. </p><p><br/>
“How do you even know about this, huh? We didn’t exactly call Freak Patrol.” Liam leaned against the doorframe, suspiciously. It was strange that these men showed up out of nowhere, but even stranger that they knew about Azalea's condition. It wasn’t exactly like Az made the news, but there were certainly things they didn’t talk about at the dinner table.</p><p> <br/>
“My gift.” The professor said. “I can telepathically reach out. We have created a machine that helps me reach troubled kids.” He approached her, slowly moving forward. “We can help you. You can learn to control your gift.” </p><p><br/>
“I want it gone…” she mumbled, sitting down on the bench. She pinched the bridge of her nose, warding off the headache. It never really went away. The pain in her mind always lingered, it was just a matter of time before it came to a crescendo.</p><p> <br/>
Scott moved to stand in front of her by the bench, “I understand how you feel. When you have these abilities that make you different… it’s easy to see them as a curse. But you can help people. Improve lives. I always thought my ability would only make things worse, but I learned how to control them at the Institute. The Professor taught me. And… I won’t lie to you. Sometimes, it still feels like a curse, but being given the chance to help people, it’s everything I could have wanted.” He tried to comfort her. Scott had unintentionally blasted enough people and taken down enough buildings to know what a curse felt like. But the best feeling in the world was coming back from a successful mission with the X-Men. Even just training made him feel indescribably happy. It made him feel like there was hope that the world wasn't completely against him.  </p><p><br/>
Azalea covered her head in her hands, rubbing her temples. “Easy for you to say… can you make it go away?”</p><p> <br/>
Liam stepped through the door and slammed it shut. “Az, stop talking.” </p><p><br/>
“Liam-!” She doubled over, her head between her knees. Her hands clapped over her ears, wincing at the deafening sound. </p><p><br/>
Scott rested a hand against her back, squatting down. “Are you alright?” The noise had been startling but her reaction of instinctive. He could feel her body tense under his hand, her head rocking slightly. Scott looked between Liam and the Professor. </p><p><br/>
To the others in the room, it was a passing noise. It was one moment. A startle but nothing more. For Azalea it was like a thousand symbols crashing in her ears, echoing, bouncing around the room. It doubled and quadrupled, enhancing. </p><p><br/>
She shook her head. Her breathing picked up, her chest feeling like it was closing in. </p><p><br/>
The professor put his hand to his temple, focusing his way into her mind. He managed part of a message, trying to soothe her, before a second voice echoed back to him, forcing him out of Azalea's mind. </p><p><br/>
“<em>Get out</em>.” </p><p><br/>
Azalea jerked up, her back pressed against the wall. She was stunned, a tear tracing down her cheek. “What did you do? Please don't do that." The voice. The voice was back. It was so loud. She was so loud. So demeaning, demanding, controlling.  </p><p><br/>
“Azalea, you’re fine. Get up, we’re going home. You don’t need these people.” Liam grabbed her by the arm, pulling her towards the door. These strangers couldn't walk into their life and fix everything. Thousands of dollars in doctor's bills did nothing. His sister was simply broken. Nothing was going to fix that. </p><p><br/>
“Can you make it stop? Can you make the voice go away?” The words rushed out of her mouth, all at once. Her voice trembled as she spoke. </p><p><br/>
“I can’t make it go away, but I can make it better. You’ve seen countless doctors, haven’t you?” The professor questioned. </p><p><br/>
Az tried to pull away from her brother and nodded. He tightened his grip. “Let go, Liam! You’re hurting me-“ she tried to pull away again. </p><p><br/>
“No. We’re leaving. Come on. Don’t make this difficult.” Liam warned, gripping her arm. </p><p><br/>
“I said let go.” Azalea shoved him away, into the door. Her face had an expression of hurt and confusion. So much was happening at once. She couldn't think straight. Her ears were still ringing and the voice lingered in the back of her mind. there was a feeling of hope that came with these people, a gut feeling that Azalea had. Her family had always stifled her, treated her like glass, or like something to be carefully put back together. </p><p><br/>
Someone knocked at the door. “Hey, is everything alright back here?” It creaked open. The boy teaching the class in the room had peeked through the door. </p><p><br/>
Azalea wiped at her eyes, brushing away anything that was here. “Can you get Liam out of here, Noah? I’ll fill you in later.” </p><p><br/>
Liam took a second to catch his breath before jumping up and attempting to land a blow to Azalea’s back. Scott caught the attack before it landed, pushing him towards the door. “I think you should leave.” He narrowed his eyes behind his shades. Scott was no stranger to sibling squabbles or even bad family situations. He'd accompanied the Professor to enough homes to see an issue when there was one. </p><p><br/>
Noah pushed the door open and grabbed his little brother, "Stop causing problems, Liam. Come on." </p><p><br/>
Liam followed his older brother, glaring at his sister as he left. </p><p><br/>
The door shut once more and Az sunk back to the bench, sighing deeply. The professor moved next to her. “I can only imagine the amount of stress this has put upon your family. The Institute could help alleviate that. Sometimes these gifts, if you leave them to run rampant, they can make your life worse, being to control you. Let me help you, Azalea.” </p><p><br/>
“What about her?” She asked, lifting her head towards the professor’s voice. </p><p><br/>
“Her? The voice in your head?” He asked. </p><p><br/>
Azalea nodded, her head hanging. </p><p><br/>
Scott stood behind the Professor. “The institute has helped a lot of people.” </p><p><br/>
“You have on so much cologne…” she mumbled. Azalea realized almost immediately how rude that must of sounded, but the closer her got to her, the more overwhelming the scent got. </p><p><br/>
Scott chuckled, somewhat taken aback. “Um, I'm actually not... wearing any.” He eyed her with something of suspicion and impression. He hadn’t put any on today. It was a day or two since he’d worn any at all. He wasn’t exactly told what her mutation was but it was clear that she was extremely sensitive to the elements and that she heard a voice. He wondered if it was anything like Jean’s mutation. If she wasn’t developing telekinetic and telepathic abilities and mistaking them for a single entity. </p><p><br/>
“Sandalwood… oak… moss. Earthy…” she pinched the bridge of her nose. It was nice, if overwhelming. She could tell it was somewhat expensive.  </p><p><br/>
“I’m impressed.” He commented. It was the top scents listed on the bottle. "That's a neat party trick." </p><p><br/>
Azalea lifted her head after a quiet moment, “Can you really help me?” She was exhausted. The visions were bad enough. The deafening noises and stomach turning scents were worse. It helped her navigate, the sensitivity, but it was more overwhelming than helpful most of the time. “A-And I could continue my training?” She motioned to the equipment around the room. </p><p><br/>
“My dear, I think you would be very happy at the Institute. Your training here will pale in comparison to what we can teach you.” The professor explained. The girl's passion for martial arts was obvious.  He would have to see if Logan would be interested in mentoring her personally. </p><p><br/>
Azalea’s eyes glittered as her expression softened. “Really?” She had been able to go far on her own in the little back room but the prospect of being able to go even farther in her learning was more than exciting. </p><p>Scott nodded, “Yeah. Everyone knows what they're doing, we have high tech equipment, and there are lots of people like us.” </p><p><br/>
Az looked to Scott and paused, “I don’t mean to be rude but… your eyes,” she trailed off. </p><p><br/>
“What about them?” The professor prodded, cutting Scott off as he opened his mouth to answer. </p><p><br/>
Azalea hesitantly moved her hand towards him. It landed on the side of his face, on his glasses frames. “They crackle. Like static off warm tv or a really sunny day…” her brows furrowed in thought. Her finger hooked around his frames. "Why do you wear glasses?" </p><p><br/>
Scott gently removed her hand. “I wouldn’t. I’d blow a hole in the wall behind you. My eyes emit optic blasts. But there isn’t exactly an off switch. The professor gave me these glasses to help me control it.” He wasn’t sure why he let her get so close. Why had he let her almost remove his glasses? Was it because she was so curious? Or maybe he was so astonished by her perspective nature he didn’t realize? Or maybe it was because she was so gentle. The feeling of her fingertips against his skin was an intimate feeling. She seemed so shy and small. </p><p><br/>
“O-oh!” She held her hand close to her chest in apology. </p><p><br/>
“It’s alright. What about you?” He promoted. He looked to the professor and got a nod from the man. </p><p><br/>
“Hmm, uh, I’m not supposed to talk about it.” Azalea shifted away from Scott, curling in on herself. </p><p><br/>
“It’s ok, Azalea. We’re here to help, remember?” The professor reassured her. </p><p><br/>
“Yeah…” she sat up a little straighter and nodded, “Um, everything is so big. Smells are so pungent and I can hardly eat anything that isn’t oatmeal or toast. And anything over 50 decibels is deafening. I can literally hear a pin drop in a quiet room. But sometimes, everything is just gone. In the same way that everything hits me like a tidal wave, it will all disappear the same way. A-And then… there’s her.” She whispered. </p><p><br/>
“Her?” Said the professor. </p><p><br/>
“It’s like someone else is living in my head. Doctors can't figure out what it is. She does things to me. I-I… Joey got into an accident. A car flipped over and landed on him. A-And I picked up the car. I don’t remember any of it but Liam and Benji both swear I <em>lifted</em> the car. And that’s without mentioning the visions.” She sighed, running a hand through her hair. </p><p><br/>
“That is certainly a lot to unpack but I assure you between our students and well equipped staff you will be safe and we can help you.” Xavier said. </p><p><br/>
“Yeah… we can stop by my house and you can talk to my mom. Noah can lock up.” Azalea stood up, packing anything laying around the room into her gym bag. She wanted to go to this school. She wanted to be around people like her. If there was even a chance that these people could help her, she wanted to go with them. </p>
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<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Smoke Swirls</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Azalea brings the Professor and Scott to speak with her mother about joining the Institute.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Azalea coughed as she walked into the cramped house. 8 people in a three bedroom house was too many. Her mother was sitting in the living room, smoking on the couch. She had just gotten off her shift at the diner. The faint scent of grease and bacon clung to her clothes. Left overs sat on the counter for whoever claimed them first. There was only so much Texas Toast one could eat before they tire of it. </p><p>“Mom! Some people are here to talk to you. They are, uh, they are from the Xavier Institute.” Azalea’s voice lost confidence as she spoke, the volume slowly decreasing. She set her gym bag down by the door, kicking it under the table. There was a backpack and a purse there. Azalea ran her hand over the table. She gripped the keychain on the zipper. Joey's home. </p><p>“I’m not interested in whatever you’re selling. Go away.” She rasped. Things had gone downhill after losing her husband. What was once a periodic cigarette turned to a pack a day. The stress of providing for her children and running a business was too much. Thankful, Jackson was old enough to take over the gym so she could get a job to put food on the table. Without him, things might literally be falling apart. Azalea’s freakish tendencies were simply the nail in the head for her shambling family. They didn’t talk about it and she kept her to herself. Things were fine this way. If they kept it swept under the rug and were able to get on top of all the doctor's bills, they might stand a chance. </p><p>The Professor rolled into the house, Scott close behind him. Azalea continued to cough, walking into the living room. Her mother sighed and snuffed out to cigarette into the overflowing ash tray by the couch. “I assure you it won’t cost you a dime, Mrs. Young. And your daughter will be safe. My school is for gifted children, children like your daughter.” The professor explained. </p><p>“She’s not ‘gifted’” Mrs. Young sighed, “She's just got some health problems.” Her waitress skirts were wrinkled and stained. Her apron was crumpled next to her on the couch. She stood. “Can I get you anything to drink?” </p><p>“No, thank you. I've spoken with Azalea about the school and she'd expressed some interest. I think I can really help her though this challenging time.” Xavier said. </p><p>Azalea shrank back, standing behind the two strangers that separated her from her mother. Her arms wrapped around herself, as she hid in the shadows. She could stay home. Things weren’t that bad. Despite how badly she wanted to go with them, or how much she thought they might be able to help her, the last thing she wanted to do was upset her family. If they could really help her the way they said they could, it would change her life. No more migraines. No more terrifying visions. They could teach her to cope with how overwhelming everything was. Life could be bearable again. But if her mother wanted her to stay, that would be final. She would stay with her brothers and continue to sequester herself to the backroom in the gym. Life would continue as normal. </p><p>“Az, what did I tell you about talking about things?” Her mother set a cup down against the counter with force. The water sloshed and threatened to escape and the sound of glass on marble pierced Azalea’s ears. The high pitched ringing froze her in her tracks, forcing her to wince and cover her ears. </p><p>“Mom, they can help. They've helped other people like me. I know we don't talk about but I think it's time we face that fact that I'm a-” </p><p>“Azalea! Don’t talk like—”</p><p>“It’s getting worse!” Azalea blurred out. “I-I can hardly stand to think. The visions are getting worse. You’ve got enough on your plate with the boys. Please. I’ll leave and things will be better. You won’t have to worry about me.” Her voice choked, taking every ounce of her confidence to speak up like that. She shook as she talked. It was understood that she was a burden to her family. She knew it. Even still, she wanted to do what was best for them. </p><p>Her mother paused, sighing heavily. She loved her kids. She loved Azalea, and as often as she told her that she wasn’t a burden, she lay awake at night, knowing that she was. They didn’t have much money. Her constant doctor’s bills were piling up and one more kid that she didn’t have to feed or worry about would mean more time and resources for the rest of her children. But to send her child away with these strangers made her uncomfortable. Azalea had so many problems, but at least now she was right there with her. </p><p>“Azalea, may I have a moment alone with your mother?” The Professor asked. He turned towards the woman in the kitchen, nodding to Scott. </p><p>Scott started to walk out towards the front door of the town house, gently resting his hand on Azalea's shoulder. Azalea followed, closing the door behind her. She sat down on the steps in front of the door. Scott sat next to her. </p><p>“Was it like this for you?” Azalea spoke so softly that Scott almost missed the question. She picked at her nails, her head hung down. Her shoulders were shrunken and her knees were pressed tightly together. The night air was cool and filled her lungs. </p><p>Scott shook his head, “No, but I was an orphan. And my mutation isn’t exactly one that was easy to keep under wraps. I- uh, blew a hole in the wall of the boys’ bathroom at my school and then The Professor showed up. It was go with him or never open my eyes again.” Scott folded his hands and rested his elbows on his knees. </p><p>Az was quiet for a minute, “It’s just my mom, my brothers, and me. My dad died a while back. I don’t want to keep dividing my house like this. Half of them want me to keep quiet and pretend it isn’t happening and the the other half want me to learn how to manage it at least. It’s good… it’s bad… I barely know what to think anymore. And of course, Joey seems to think that I’m going to be some kind of superhero, Liam's in my ear all the time 'freak' this, 'wacko' that, Jackson's keeps pushing me to see more doctors and we can't afford it.” Az heaved a heavy sigh. She held her head in her hands, rubbing her temples. It was always this overwhelming. She was always being pulled in different directions. For as long as she could remember her family was divided over her. </p><p>Scott sat up, “You don't deserve that. No one does. Things will work out.” He wasn’t the best at comforting people. Especially girls. Though Scott never have any issues being confident or presenting himself, there was something about women that made him second guess himself. “Your brother, back at the dojo. Is he always like that?” He changed the topic, hoping to at least avoid an awkward silence. </p><p>“Liam? Yeah. He… doesn’t really like me. He’s got some strong opinions on mutants and me, I guess. He thinks we should all just shut up about it. If we had things his way, they would have kicked me out the second I went blind.” Az shifted, stretching out against the steps. She used her hands as pillows behind her head. She closed her eyes. </p><p>“You went blind? You weren’t born that way?” Scott asked. He noted the way she slowly started to open up. The way her posture opened and she seemed less reserved alone. She had the whole world weighing on her shoulders and it was like no one bothered to help her carry it. It seemed like, in the coolness of the night air, she was able to get out from under something stifling.</p><p>“Yeah. I, uh, I think she did it. I was really young. My sight was already going, but after my dad died, I was completely blind.” Azalea explained. She skipped the worst parts. The part where she lost her sight before it happened. Before he was killed. </p><p>“My parents died in a plane crash.” Scott said. He didn’t know what pulled that out of him. He was normally very reserved and played it close to the vest. There was something, just something there, that made him feel like they were already on common ground. Like he’d already known her like an old friend. </p><p>“Misery loves company, I guess.” Az sighed, “Do you want to talk about it?” </p><p>“Not really.” </p><p>The two of them sat in the quiet, waiting for the Professor to call them back in. Scott took a moment to digest this information. He couldn’t help but scan over her. Her hair was tied back. Brown locks twisted softly, spreading against the pavement. Even stretched out, she seemed so small. But it was very clear from the minimal skin visible and work out clothes that she was fit. Good thing too. If she could keep up with training without any catching up at the institute it would help them all immeasurably. </p><p>They sat in comfortable silence until the door creaked open. “It’s freezing out here. Why didn’t you grab a jacket, Azalea?” Her mother waved the two back into the home. Azalea shrugged. The two walked in again. They were ushered into the living room with the Professor. Az sat on the couch, looking directly in front of her, eyes hazy and lost. Scott stood near the Professor. </p><p>“After discussing it with Dr. Xavier, I do think this school would be good for you, Azalea. I think that they might be able to do what all those doctors couldn’t.” Mrs. Young clasped her hands around her daughters. </p><p>Azalea smiled and nodded, “Yeah, I think so too.”</p>
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